The Masquerade
by lfh
Summary: AU slash. In 1857, Harry Potter journeyed from Delaware to Texas to tutor the son of Lucius Malfoy. What appeared to be innocuous employment becomes something far more strange, secretive, and beautiful. Draco/Harry, Remus/Sirius, Dean/Seamus, Ron/Hermione
1. The Arrival

Many years ago, I went down to Malfoy Manor, in eastern Texas, from my native Delaware, as a tutor to Lucius Malfoy's only son, Draco. I had lied in my exchange of letters with Lucius over my position, lied about my age, indicating it as two and twenty, five years older than the truth. My parents had been dead since my infancy, and I longed to escape the custody of my mother's spiteful sister and her family. Sirius Black, who had been a close friend to my father, paid for me to have schoolbooks at a young age. By the age of seventeen, I was proficient in Latin, mathematics, and literature. I traveled down to Malfoy Manor then, of the assumption that I would be instructing a young boy.  
  
Malfoy Manor was immense. The plantation grew cotton and ranched cattle, as was typical of that area of country. Throughout the dusty expanse were dark backs: the slaves bent over in toil. Sirius had opened my mind to the truth of abolitionism, and that truth burned righteously in my heart. However, I was aware that to betray this part of me in these circumstances would entail a sort of suicide.  
  
"Welcome to Malfoy Manor, Mister Potter," a voice behind me said. I turned around and found the voice to belong to the overseer, Snape. His sallow complexion and harsh features gave me the impression of a bitter man, yet his eyes briefly showed a flicker of decency.  
  
"Mister Malfoy and his family eagerly await your arrival in the parlor," Snape continued, leading me through the nightfall to the impressive brick house. At the door, he left me to the hands of a house slave.  
  
"This way, Master Potter," the slave murmured, showing me into the parlor. The desire to give him and his fellow slaves my assistance in escape seized my mind. I thought then to educate my new pupil in the immorality of slavery, he being young enough for new ideas.  
  
However, when I entered the parlor, where the Malfoy family sat in wait for me, my thoughts proved to be a hasty ones.  
  
Draco was no small boy. He looked to be at least my true age. And he was beautiful. My sodomite urges, the sin I thought I had silenced, began to scream at me. I looked away from Draco and instead turned my eyes to his parents.  
  
"Welcome to Malfoy Manor, Mister Potter," Lucius said coolly, standing up to shake my hand. His wife, Narcissa, greeted me in similar fashion.  
  
"I hope that you will be a good influence upon Draco as well as a capable teacher," Lucius continued. "He has rather strange...habits that my wife and I would like to break him of."  
  
Draco smiled rather wickedly at me, rolling his eyes behind his father's back.  
  
"I shall do my best, Mister Malfoy," I replied, a little frightened of what strange habits Draco might have.  
  
"Draco, show Mister Potter to his room," commanded Narcissa softly to her son.  
  
Draco rose from his chair, taking a candelabrum, and led me away from the parlor.  
  
"You don't look to be two and twenty, Mister Potter," he said as we climbed the stairs.  
  
"Why would you doubt my age, Draco?" I asked, poorly hiding nervousness.  
  
"I did not call you a liar, Mister Potter, but you look not a day over my own age, and I am but seventeen," Draco replied. "However, I am sure you shall prove a splendid tutor. If you will be tolerant of my 'strange habits', as my father so tactfully put it, I am sure we shall be good friends as well."  
  
With that, he opened the door to my room. As he walked away, I nearly believe I heard him whisper, "Perhaps even lovers in addition." in his honey-thick drawl, light in a way almost like a woman's.  
  
I lit a candle and unpacked my trunk, which a slave had brought up to my room. Wearied from the day's journey, I took off my spectacles, blew out the candle, and fell into sleep. 


	2. The Interrogation

I awoke the next morning later than usual, having become accustomed to an interrupted sleep. Sunlight fell through my window onto my bed, causing me to think on Draco's palely golden hair. Pushing such thoughts from my mind, I hurriedly dressed and made my way to the dining room for breakfast.  
  
"Good morning, Mister Potter," Lucius said, already seated with his breakfast. Narcissa nodded to me.  
  
"Good morning, Mister Malfoy. Good morning, Mistress Malfoy," I replied.  
  
I sat down and asked the nearby house slave to bring me griddle cakes and a cup of coffee. As I began to eat, Draco walked into the room, still yawning. He nodded greeting to his parents and myself and sat down, across from me, to the meal awaiting him.  
  
I tried not to notice how delicately Draco consumed his breakfast. The silence of the dining room felt stifling. I finished breakfast as quickly as could be polite, excused myself, and walked back up to my room. There, I assembled my lessons, regretting having brought along books better suited to a young boy. Deliberately, taking even breaths, I braced myself for the day's lessons and walked into Draco's bedchamber.  
  
The chamber was luxurious, with an opulence that reminded me of my cousin Dudley's bedroom. Concerning aesthetics, Draco seemed considerably more suited to this sort of lavishness as he reclined on an overstuffed chair facing a desk.  
  
"You expected a small boy, Mister Potter, did you not?" he questioned languidly.  
  
"The tone of your father in his correspondence with me implied a student of younger age, yes. As such, I am afraid my lessons are intended for someone of lesser years than yourself," I replied shakily.  
  
"Well, lessons matter little to me, at any rate. I already know my mathematics, Greek and history. My father only desired that I have a tutor so that I would not spend my emptier hours indulging in eccentricities," Draco said.  
  
My voice grew more unsteady. "What eccentricities may those be, Draco?" I asked.  
  
"Oh, you shall have plenty of time to learn about me," Draco replied. "But I would like very much to learn a little more about you."  
  
"About me?" I inquired in disbelief.  
  
"Who else is in the room, Mister Potter? Now, if you would be so polite as to sit down, we may begin," Draco replied.  
  
I sat in the chair opposite Draco.  
  
"So, Mister Potter. What and with whom are your origins?" Draco began.  
  
"My parents were killed in an accident when I was a small infant. I was somehow spared, left only with this scar," I replied, indicating the lightning-bolt-shaped scar on my forehead. "I was left to the care of my mother's sister, Petunia Dursley, and her husband, Vernon, in the town of New Surry, in Delaware. They doted on their only child, Dudley, but treated me poorly. My godfather, Sirius Black, who had been close friends with my father, provided me with a safe haven and an education in his library. After I could be deemed proficient in my studies, I sought out a tutoring position, and came here," I responded.  
  
"Satisfactory. Are you or do you intend upon becoming romantically entangled with any young ladies?" Draco continued innocently.  
  
"Oh, no, I am not, nor do I believe I shall be," I admitted with hesitation.  
  
"And why ever not, Mr. Potter? Unless something I have been uninformed of lurks beneath your appearance, you seem to be handsome, intelligent, and even-tempered enough to already be happily wed," he said, averting his eyes from mine.  
  
"I, I have yet to be acquainted with a young lady whom I would wish to wed," I replied.  
  
"I understand. I am intended for a Miss Parkinson, and I have no desire to marry her," he said.  
  
I wondered at what young lady could have such luck as to soon possess that form. "What is it in Miss Parkinson's disposition that you find such displeasure?" I asked.  
  
"She is empty-headed, simpering, and coy. Her appearance is cheap, hardly worthy of the Malfoy name. I feel ashamed before my very soul whenever I must be near her," Draco replied painfully.  
  
"And who would you rather be intended for?" I inquired.  
  
"I, I have yet to meet a young lady I would gladly be intended for," he replied.  
  
The conversation stayed suspended in the air for a few silent minutes. Draco gazed out the window upon the budding rose bushes surrounding the house. I allowed myself the luxury of looking upon him, feeling my hands shake as I did so.  
  
"Of course, you shall meet Miss Parkinson yourself, next week," Draco mentioned suddenly.  
  
"Why is that?" I asked in confusion.  
  
"She will be coming out next Saturday evening, at the Parkinson Manor near Durmstrang. My father will no doubt want to bring you along to keep me in line, as he trusts Snape to watch over the manor on his own," he replied.  
  
"Who else will be in attendance?" I asked.  
  
"Oh, no one of great interest. The Crabbes, the Bulstrodes, the Goyles, all of whom have sons and a daughter my age whom I find loathsome. They are well-suited to the likes of Miss Parkinson," he replied.  
  
"It is a shame that there are none that would match the caliber of the Malfoy name," I mentioned with sarcasm. Draco did not seem to notice.  
  
"Oh, I nearly forgot. Mister Voldemort was also invited. He is the congressman for this area and owns a incredible expanse of land and hundreds of slaves. He and Father are close friends," he said nonchalantly.  
  
I could now not decide whether I disliked Draco or not. His choice of words betrayed a rather blasé arrogance. Yet there was something very trapped, pleading within him.  
  
Draco brought out a chess board complete with imported pieces. We played chess until the bell rang for lunch.  
  
At the bell's sounding, Draco cleared the chess board and put it away. The room became as it had been.  
  
"Well, Master Draco, you are an excellent chess player," I admitted, he having won the majority of the games.  
  
"And you are a poor one, Mister Potter," he replied, smiling.  
  
"I am a better player at baseball. When I was in school, I played the sport constantly," I responded.  
  
"By contrast, I am terrible at any endeavor requiring one to be more than minimally masculine," Draco said. He closed his eyes as though stricken with a headache or some other personal suffering.  
  
"Ah, let us go down then..." I said.  
  
"Go...down?" Draco inquired. I swallowed hard and suppressed my blush.  
  
"To lunch," I replied naturally.  
  
"Yes, down to lunch. Of course," he said, his pale skin slightly flushed.  
  
Draco exited the room first, and I followed, watching the form of his backside through his light green trousers.  
  
We sat down at the formidable dining table where Lucius and Narcissa were already seated. The ubiquitous house slave served us our meal. After a few bites, I settled upon a decisive dislike of the cooking of the deep South but continued eating for the sake of politeness.  
  
"Mister Potter, how went this morning's lesson?" Lucius asked between mouthfuls of fried chicken.  
  
"Oh, very well, Mister Malfoy. Your son has an apt and willing mind for knowledge. I intend upon a lesson in Greek history and language tomorrow, and I am confident in his willingness and performance to such," I replied, realizing my innuendoes too late. Lucius seemed neither to notice this, nor his son laughing softly and blushing.  
  
"So our Draco had proven so far to be a.normal pupil for you?" Narcissa asked.  
  
"Oh, yes. Completely normal from what I can tell. Nothing I would classify as unusual, Mrs. Malfoy," I replied.  
  
Narcissa and Lucius nodded their approval. Draco raised his eyebrows at me. I looked away and concentrated on my plate. Several minutes of silence passed.  
  
"Miss Parkinson will be coming out next Saturday, Mister Potter," Lucius commented.  
  
"Ah, yes, Draco informed me of the event this morning. Her parents must be considerably proud of her," I responded.  
  
"They would be rightfully. Pansy is a well-mannered and lovely young lady. We wait eagerly for her and Draco to become officially engaged," Narcissa said.  
  
"If she is indeed as alluring as you say, then any alliance between her family and yours is sure to be a happy one," I replied courteously.  
  
"Well, Mister Potter, you shall meet her yourself at her coming out ball. The high society of Durmstrang is always delighted to meet someone associated with the Malfoy name. You shall come along with us," Lucius said.  
  
I nodded my consent. All was again silent. When the slave took away my plate, I retired to my room for the afternoon. 


	3. The Coping

My room was exceedingly warm when I returned. I removed my vest, cravat, and shirt and splashed myself with the water remaining in the washbowl. Sitting down at my desk, I began a letter to Sirius.  
  
Dear Sirius,  
  
I pray this letter finds thee well. I have arrived safely at Malfoy Manor, although the condition of my pupil has come as a small shock: I was under the impression that Draco was a small boy, but upon my arrival, I discovered that he is truly around my own age. Furthermore, he and his parents have alluded to eccentricities on his part, the like of which I have yet to see. Let us hope that Draco's habits are innocuous and do not involve any harm befalling his tutor! Sirius, I know thou laughest at my paranoia.  
  
Otherwise, it is extremely warm here, and the meals are repulsive, yet the Malfoys are a cold and genteel family, quite in contrast with their environment. Despite my suspicions and worries, I feel I shall benefit from my employment here.  
  
I have written too much of myself. How is New Surrey? And, more importantly, how art thou? I recall thy telling me that a Doctor Lupin would be visiting thee shortly, but I know little of his person. I would be delighted to hear more of him.  
  
I know thou art nervous about the upcoming trial date, but I am confident that Mister Pettigrew will be convicted for his heinous crimes, and the tarnish from thy name will be removed.  
  
I will be attending the coming-out ball of a Miss Pansy Parkinson, for whom Draco is intended, this Saturday. Draco says that Miss Parkinson is empty- headed and coy. His parents say that she is lovely and charming. I know not whom to believe, but to meet the high society of Durmstrang shall be an experience indeed. I fear I haven't any other news, so you will have to relate to me some from home, dear Godfather. I hope to remain,  
  
Thine sincerely,  
Harry Potter  
  
I sealed the letter with my personal seal, addressed it, and instructed the house slave, who was dusting in the hallway, to put it with the rest of the day's outgoing mail. The slave told me that because of Durmstrang's excellent postal service, my letter would arrive in Delaware in only a few days. As I walked back into my room, my tiredness from the heat overcame me, and I fell upon my bed and took a nap.  
  
When I awoke, my mind felt clear. As I put back on my shirt, vest, and cravat, the bell rang for dinner. I walked down the stairs and entered the dining room. Lucius rose.  
  
"How good of you to join us, Mister Potter. You will see that we have company. Mister Potter, meet Congressman Voldemort. Congressman, this is Draco's new tutor," Lucius said.  
  
I looked at Congressman Voldemort. He seemed dead in a way, with grayish skin and red eyes like those of a snake. Our eyes met, and I felt a great discomfort rush through my body, from my feet to my jagged scar.  
  
"It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Congressman. The Malfoy family is truly blessed to have such an esteemed politician as yourself as company," I said, shaking his hand.  
  
We sat down to an elaborate dinner. I stared at a mess of breaded veal as Lucius and Voldemort made conversation.  
  
"So what is the news in the capital, Congressman?" Lucius asked.  
  
"Ah, the place is quickly being infested with abolitionists. They wish to mutilate our way of life, and I won't stand for it," Voldemort replied, his voice lowering dangerously. "Where are you from, Mister Potter?"  
  
"New Surrey, in Delaware, Congressman," I replied.  
  
"And is the place crawling with abolitionists?" he asked, disgusted at the thought.  
  
"Oh, yes," I replied. "Abolitionism is quite popular there. But the home I was raised in was entirely ambivalent on the matter."  
  
"As they should be. It is not the business of the North to dictate the affairs of the South," Lucius commented.  
  
"It is essential to our republic that each man have sovereignty over his own affairs. We are a free nation, after all," I responded, as though in agreement.  
  
"Except for the nigger slaves, of course! They and the mongrels descended from them might as well have mud within their veins rather than blood, they are so subhuman!" Voldemort exclaimed, laughing. I managed a smile.  
  
"When Draco turns eighteen, I intend to take him to Durmstrang to buy him a nigger of his own," Lucius said.  
  
"That is a fine idea, Lucius. When a boy becomes a man, he's got to learn responsibility!" Voldemort said, clapping Draco on the back. Draco smiled proudly.  
  
"We hope that it will be a good wedding present as well," Lucius said. Draco's smile faded.  
  
"Ah yes, Miss Parkinson. How delightful a marriage of pure blood is!" Voldemort responded.  
  
Draco frowned. Lucius and Voldemort continued talking of matters towards which I was uninterested. Draco made eye contact with me, and I stared directly back into their grayness, unflinching. The house slave appeared in order to clear the table, and his eyes shifted from Draco to myself with suspicion.  
  
After dinner ended, I joined Lucius and Voldemort for a pipe in the parlor. Draco moved to join us, but Lucius just clapped him on the back and said,  
  
"Wait until you're a man, my son,"  
  
Draco grumbled and walked into another room. I followed Lucius and Voldemort into the parlor, where we sat in horsehair chairs and smoked Lucius's best tobacco until it was time for bed. 


	4. The Revealing

A few days passed. Visitors came and went. I began to teach Draco Latin, and my thoughts began to stabilize. One afternoon, as I was engrossed in the ablative case, he mentioned that his birthday would be in exactly three months.  
  
"Are you excited to at last become an adult?" I asked, my attentions entirely on Draco's translations of Ovid.  
  
"I suppose," he replied listlessly.  
  
"Your father will buy you your own slave, if I'm not mistaken," I said.  
  
"Oh, I look forward to that," Draco responded, smiling. "It will be good to have my own darkie to beat around."  
  
I was shocked. My moral upbringing, by way of my godfather, had been Quaker. "Draco, even the lowest of slaves deserves humane treatment. We are all God's creatures," I said.  
  
"Ah, they're just niggers. They wouldn't know what to do without a whip at their backs. If I didn't think better of your character, Mister Potter, I'd say you were a dirty abolitionist!" he responded, laughing.  
  
I thought I would strangle him at that very moment, beautiful form or no.  
  
"How absurd," I said instead, laughing uneasily.  
  
"And I must say, the closer my wedding looms, the less I wish to marry any woman, ever, especially Pansy. She is too...feminine. Something about the curve of her arm, or the elaborateness of her coiffure, sickens me that I will soon have to be near it all the time," Draco mused.  
  
"I see," I replied, not listening.  
  
"Not that there's something wrong with femininity. It is an acknowledgment of beauty in a world of brutality. I just dislike it in someone I must spend the rest of my days with," he continued.  
  
My senses jumped, interpreting what he had just said. Before I could respond, however, Narcissa called up for Draco to assist her in some manner. As soon as he left, I walked to my room and took a nap, confused.  
  
When I woke up, the house slave was standing over me calmly, holding a letter bearing my godfather's seal. When I had put on my spectacles, I took the letter and, opening it, bade the slave to leave.  
  
Dear Harry,  
  
I am gladdened at thy safe arrival to Malfoy Manor. The Malfoys sound to me like an ordinary wealthy plantation family, although Draco is certainly more enigmatic.  
  
As for here in New Surrey, Doctor Remus Lupin has arrived. He was a close friend to thy father and myself back in school and is now a professor of ethics and religion at the university and brings with him many new ideas for easing extreme fears. Upon our reunion, I accompanied Remus to a Universalist congregation, the first in this area. I must admit, dear godson, that perhaps I should be thy moral guiding light no longer and perhaps also cease in my manners of speech, for the Universalist philosophy appeals to me far more than that of the Quaker meetings ever could. To be now honest, there are many things in my heart that I have realized in the past week, all of which I pray thee not condemn me for.  
  
The letter continued onto another page, but the dinner bell rang before I could finish reading.  
  
At dinner, Draco ignored me completely. I thought nothing of it. After I had finished eating, Lucius asked if I would help him with a few business letters and receipts.  
  
A few articles turned into three hours of compositions, revisions, and calculations. When Lucius felt at last our work was done, he thanked me, and, worn, I went up to my room with a candelabrum in one hand.  
  
As I mounted the top of the stairs, I realized that I had left some books in Draco's bedchamber. Thinking that he was probably asleep, considering the late hour, I stepped very quietly through the door.  
  
I heard the noise of a lamp being lit and looked up to see Draco in front of a mirror, fussing with something I couldn't distinguish in the dark. He turned around and, setting the lamp on a table at the foot of his bed, came towards me. As the light of my candelabrum hit him, I understood the identity of his eccentricity.  
  
Draco was dressed in a lace-trimmed, red and black saloon-girl's gown. His blonde hair was combed down from its perpetual greased-back state and instead kept from his face by means of tortoise-shell combs. Manascar coated his eye-lashes, and rouge coated his lips.  
  
"Is all now clear, Mister Potter?" Draco drawled seductively, pushing my hand that held the candelabrum away from him. It joined the lamp on the table.  
  
Our hands locked. Draco smiled with his teeth and kissed me. I kissed him back. And then my eyes widened, when I realized what a terrible thing I had just allowed, what perversion. I dropped my hand from Draco's and grabbed the candelabrum.  
  
"I never wanted this," I whispered. "I only wanted to bear my sin in peace."  
  
I ran from Draco's room to my own, my object for entering his forgotten.  
  
When in my room, I blew out the candelabrum and lay on my bed, staring out into the darkness, tears in my eyes. 


	5. The Enlightenment

I dreamt all night of Draco leaning over me like Salomé, my head severing itself from my panting body. When I woke up, I had a terrible headache and so closed the curtains and paced the floor, two voices in my head quarreling.  
  
"It cannot be sin. Mankind is fashioned in God's image. Would He create a few of His children like this, without a choice in this matter, only to then damn them?"  
  
"Lecher! Dante reserved our kind a place in Hell! He in his brilliance condemned sodomites!"  
  
"I cannot dictate my pleasures according to a dead Papist, brilliant or not."  
  
"Papists and Quakers recognize the same sins."  
  
"But is God not love?"  
  
That last thought echoed in my mind for some time. When the house slave went near my door during his morning tasks, I informed him that I would not be attending breakfast, and would like only a pot of coffee brought up to me. To face Draco at this hour would have been simply out of the question.  
  
When the slave left, I sat down in the chair at my desk and ran my fingers through my hair, momentarily distracted by its intractability. I rustled around some of the papers on my desk, tracing my fingers over Draco's elegant penmanship. A few minutes later, the house slave returned with a coffee service and poured me a cup.  
  
"Did your letter bring unpleasant news, Master Potter?" the house slave asked cautiously, noticing my agitation.  
  
"My letter! I hadn't finished reading it; I was interrupted," I replied, having forgotten the letter altogether.  
  
"Then you may wish to read it, Master Potter. It may comfort you," he said simply. With that, he exited the room.  
  
I snatched the letter from under a small pile of uncorrected essays and turned to the second page.  
  
I must confess something to thee, the gravity of which may be far greater than my spiritual alterations. I beg of thee to not judge me too harshly in your heart.  
  
Around the time when thy father became involved with Miss Evans, Remus and I became quite close friends. We were inseparable companions until around the date of my arrest, at which time Remus left New Surrey to be treated in a sanitarium for a bad fit, he having been diagnosed with a rare form of epilepsy as a small child. A month ago, after nearly twenty years of separation, he wrote to me to say that the affection and kinship he felt for me when we were young men had not died, and he desired intensely to see me. I replied indicating my natural great concern for his health, but he informed me that he now underwent a physick that eased considerably the trauma of his fits. Such worries allayed, I bade him to come to New Surrey. Shortly after his arrival, I then invited Remus to live with me, and he gladly accepted. If my meaning is not yet clear, I shall write in plainly: Doctor Lupin and I love one another deeply, and we intend to spend our lives devoted to one another, just as an ordinary married couple would.  
  
I am well-acquainted with the Gospel teachings forbidding my love for Remus, but I have realized that God loves all of His children, especially those who are kind and loving to one another. We have spoken with the Universalist minister on this matter, and he gave us his blessing.  
  
I know what a shock all of this must be to thee, but I hope that with time, thou shall accept us as thy family. Thou art the nearest thing I shall ever have to a son, and it would kill me to have thee despise me. I pray to remain,  
  
Thy loving Godfather,  
Sirius Black  
  
I read the letter three more times to be sure I was not mistaken. I was not. Shaking, I drank my cup of coffee and poured myself another. I could not begin to describe my shock, my joy. My own godfather had undergone the very same agonies and torments I had been undergoing for the past few years, except for so much longer. As I finished another cup of coffee, a great feeling of calm seemed to break over me. I gathered my papers and walked to Draco's room.  
  
Draco was semi-reclined on the window seat, gazing out into the morning. He was still wearing manascar, and from the look of it, he had spent all night in the position he was in. I moved towards him.  
  
"Draco?" I asked.  
  
"Well, now you know," he responded flatly, still looking out the window.  
  
I felt tears in my eyes but said nothing, only stood there, looking at Draco's profile with a seething longing.  
  
"I want you to know that it doesn't matter to me," I said. "You're the most beautiful person I have ever laid eyes upon, and stolen rouge doesn't change that either for better or for worst. I have lain awake half the night sorting out my emotions, and I've concluded that all secrets are the same. You dress as a woman, and I am a seventeen and an abolitionist."  
  
"You're an abolitionist?!" Draco asked, turning around, shocked.  
  
"Yes," I replied.  
  
"Why ever on Earth?" he asked.  
  
"Because I believe that God has created us all equal in His image, and no laws of men should affect that," I replied, my confidence growing.  
  
"But niggers, they're like animals!" he cried.  
  
"Then we all are. Don't you see? Our hatreds are all the same. If we were to kiss in the town square of Durmstrang, we'd be spat upon, perhaps even killed. How is that different from a Negro also asserting the needs of his soul?" I responded, all my beliefs now perfectly clear to me.  
  
"Good Lord, I don't know anymore," Draco whispered, beginning to cry. I sat beside him and put my arms around him. "This whole world's a mess, with right and wrong sharing the same bed. Do you know what my father does to our slaves?"  
  
"What?" I asked.  
  
"Unspeakable things. The whippings. He makes me watch." Draco replied. "Nobody deserves those. They rip up the skin."  
  
My heart pained at the mention of such atrocities. "Nobody deserves to be bought and sold like a parcel of land," I said quietly.  
  
Draco dried his eyes on his dressing-robe. We remained curled up at the window for several minutes, unspeaking. Then he kissed me and smiled. "I knew you weren't two-and-twenty," he said.  
  
"Well, I knew you weren't really a heartless sadist," I replied, also smiling.  
  
When the house slave was again nearby, I disentangled myself from Draco and ordered up some breakfast. When it arrived, we crawled into Draco's bed and ate it, kissing the honey from one another's mouths.  
  
"If God would one morning make you a woman in body," I asked Draco later. "Would you be content?"  
  
"No," he replied. "I would be entirely too soft and curved, which would not suit me in the least. I am in particular completely satisfied with certain masculine...aspects of my body. I simply happen to have a strong disdain towards wearing male clothing. It makes me no less of a man, I believe. And besides, I look rather fetching in ladies' garments, don't you agree?"  
  
"Lovelier than any lady," I replied.  
  
"You're only saying that because you don't find ladies lovely," Draco remarked.  
  
"True, but nonetheless...!" I stammered.  
  
"Hmm..." Draco mused with a wicked smile. "Well, Harry, you're undoubtedly lovely too, in a masculine sort of way."  
  
"You're still masculine," I protested.  
  
"In spite of the dislike for athletics, affinity for cooking, and tendency towards wearing gowns when left unattended," he said with a smile.  
  
"Exactly", I replied.  
  
What seemed to be but a moment later, the lunch bell rang. I kissed Draco on the forehead and removed myself from his bed. As I put on my waistcoat and jacket, he washed the manascar from his face and dressed. The scene felt oddly domestic, even ritual despite its infancy.  
  
I walked down to the dining room a full few minutes ahead of Draco.  
  
"My apologies, Mister Malfoy, for my absence at breakfast. I awoke with a terrible headache and could take only coffee," I said.  
  
"Of course, Mister Potter. We wouldn't dream of obliging you to breakfast with us in such a state," he drawled, turning his eyes to Draco coming down the stairs. "Such would be...unmannerly."  
  
"Are you certain you are now well?" Narcissa asked me.  
  
"Thank you for your concern, madam. A headache did plague me all this night and for some of the morning, but I have recovered just recently and feel considerably better," I replied. 


	6. The Secrecy

Draco and I were kissing in his bed the next morning, a pile of Greek plays tossed aside somewhere on the quilt. He suddenly stopped.  
  
"Oh Lord," he said.  
  
"What is it?" I asked.  
  
"Do you recall what is taking place tonight?" he asked.  
  
I searched my memory but found only recent hours worth of kisses and embraces.  
  
"I cannot recall," I replied.  
  
"Miss Parkinson is coming out tonight," Draco answered. "I had completely forgotten."  
  
"So had I," I said.  
  
It became very clear to me at that moment that Fate would not grant Draco and me the leisure of endless kisses. I got up from Draco's bed, put my spectacles back on, and began to pace about the room.  
  
"Draco, what are we to do about the small matter of Miss Parkinson?" I asked.  
  
"If your tone implies murder, then I'm all ears," Draco replied. In the bottom of my heart, I could not tell whether he was serious or not.  
  
"As tempting as that proposal sounds, I'm afraid murdering Miss Parkinson would be out of the question," I said.  
  
"Pity," he commented. "Well, we have several weeks until she and I need even become officially engaged. An opportunity will surface."  
  
I walked over to where he was still lying in bed and sat down on the edge.  
  
"And in the meantime, we shall play along," I said.  
  
Draco nodded. We said nothing for some time, only looking into one another's eyes. I could not think of anything to express fully the multitude of emotions imprisoning my tongue while so the possession of his gray eyes.  
  
"Is something wrong?" Draco asked, noting my changed expression.  
  
"I love you," I said finally.  
  
He looked at me for a moment, pensive.  
  
"I love you too," he replied.  
  
I kissed him and crawled back into his bed. Perhaps twenty minutes thereafter, the bell rang for lunch. We rose reluctantly from the bed and walked downstairs.  
  
"How did today's lesson go, Mister Potter?" Lucius asked.  
  
"Better than I had expected, Mister Malfoy. I had not predicted that young Draco would express such a fondness for classical drama," I replied.  
  
"Wonderful," he said. "And I hope you have not forgotten about the exciting events of this evening."  
  
"How could I forget?" I told him. "Miss Parkinson's coming-out is an affair I greatly anticipate."  
  
Our meal was, as usual, fried and drenched in grease. I could not understand how the Malfoys ate of such food and yet still retained their fine complexions.  
  
"Do you have something suitable to wear to the ball?" Narcissa asked.  
  
I thought for a moment about the contents of my trunk. "I am profoundly sorry, madam, but I fear I would be underdressed. I did not pack my trunk in anticipation of such high society," I replied.  
  
"Evidently not," she said. "Well, no matter. I'm sure Mister Snape has a suit that would fit you."  
  
"Thank you," I responded. "I shall ask him about it immediately."  
  
I could not conceive of why a mere overseer would own suitable clothing. Nevertheless, I finished my food quickly and walked out the side door, into the fields.  
  
I had not realized that I had spent nearly a week entirely indoors. The feeling of dirt against my shoes felt foreign. I walked up to where a group of slaves was tending the grounds and asked one of them if she knew where the overseer was. She replied that he was eating lunch in his house and pointed to me its location. I went up to the small house and knocked on the door.  
  
"Mister Snape, it is Mister Potter," I said.  
  
"Ah yes, Mister Potter," he said as he opened the door. "What is it?"  
  
"I hate to intrude, but Mistress Malfoy requested I borrow a suit from you for tonight," I replied.  
  
"Oh, no, you're not intruding," he said. "Come in."  
  
I looked around. While Snape's house itself was very modest, its décor seemed almost lavish, as though it had once been somewhere else.  
  
"Your furnishings are very lovely," I commented.  
  
"Yes. They are remnants of my past, from before I came to work here," Snape replied shortly. "Let me look for a suit, then."  
  
Snape went into his bedroom and began looking through some trunks, I remained in the main room. He returned quickly, carrying an elegant set of clothes. He pushed them into my arms and muttered something about needing to get back to the fields. I left quickly, bemused at his sudden shift in manner.  
  
I walked back into the main house, up the stairs, and into my bedroom. I placed Snape's clothes on top of my trunk, took out a book from my desk, and read for the remainder of the afternoon.  
  
At approximately the hour of six, Lucius announced the arrival of the stagecoach. I dressed myself with the greatest speed I could muster, attempted to smooth down my hair, and walked down to the front door. Lucius and Draco were there already; Narcissa sailed down the stairs a few minutes later. Despite my unkind opinions of the women, I could see from where Draco received his fair appearance.  
  
The ride to Parkinson Manor, although but a few miles away, felt treacherous and endless. None of us uttered a word. When we at last arrived, the front grounds at the main house were already crowded with stagecoaches.  
  
A slave in livery showed us inside, where a good couple hundred people were milling about. Lucius offered his arm to his wife, and they went off to find old friends. Draco remained beside me.  
  
"Any moment now," he muttered to me.  
  
"What do you mean?" I asked.  
  
"You'll see," he replied.  
  
Just then an elegant woman with heavy-lidded eyes appeared almost from out of nowhere and embraced Draco.  
  
"My Lord, Draco! Look at how you've grown!" she exclaimed.  
  
"Good evening, Aunt Bellatrix. You look well," Draco replied formally.  
  
"And who is this young man here?" Bellatrix asked.  
  
"Harry Potter, madam. I am Master Malfoy's new tutor," I replied, kissing her offered hand.  
  
"Bellatrix Lestrange, Mister Potter. It is a distinct pleasure to make your acquaintance," she said, careening her eyes up and down my form. I began to feel quite uncomfortable. "You both simply must meet my cousin Dolores Umbridge," she continued, indicating a stout, toad-faced woman to her right, whom I hadn't before noticed.  
  
Dolores cleared her throat with an irritating hem, hem and offered her hand, which was overly adorned with rings, to first Draco, then myself.  
  
"Dolores is the wife of the governor's chief advisor," Bellatrix said smarmily. "Her counsel to her husband will surely preserve our interests in the government."  
  
"Interests that are being attacked by no-good radicals," Dolores informed us. "They do not understand that America can only maintain its purity by us affirming our natural superiority over radicals, savages, and lunatics."  
  
"Quite so," Bellatrix responded. "Why, in these chaotic times, even a man with the fits could worm his way into teaching impressionable youth! Not to mention the Indians and immigrants! Let us hope that Southern leadership will bring this country back its morals!"  
  
By that point, those two loathsome women appeared to have forgotten about Draco and myself entirely. We used the opportunity to escape into the crowd and find a set of chairs against a shadowed wall where we were less likely to be noticed. I sat down, and Draco slipped away for a moment, returning with a filled cut-glass tumbler. He handed it to me.  
  
"What is this?" I asked warily.  
  
"Bourbon," he replied as though it were obvious.  
  
"Draco, Quakers do not drink spirits," I told him.  
  
"Temperance is a misguided cause. Besides, you'll want to relax your nerves considering the sorts of people here," he insisted.  
  
I conceded the latter point and drank the bourbon in one gulp. It burned my innards with a ferocity that faded into a feeling of warmth and comfort. We sat for awhile in a sort of lighthearted contentment. Draco pointed out Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle stuffing food into their pockets, much to our amusement.  
  
"They were my only playmates when I was a child," Draco commented. "Thank God I'm not required to be in their company anymore."  
  
I had not had any playmates as a child, although my cousin Dudley enjoyed practicing his boxing techniques on me. I had one friend in school: a handsome boy named Cedric Diggory, with whom I was rather smitten. He was killed two years previous to my departure when he had the misfortune of being a bystander during a violent riot.  
  
Yet the sorrows of my childhood were rendered into mere memories by the liquor's effects. I was quite able to sit beside Draco's side and laugh at his descriptions of various party guests.  
  
"There's Millicent Bulstrode," he said, pointing out a young lady around our age with about the grace and allure of a mule forced into a dress. "She and Vincent Crabbe recently became engaged."  
  
"I don't know for whom I should feel more pity!" I said. We both laughed.  
  
Suddenly, the entire room grew quiet. A man whom I presumed to be Mister Parkinson stood at the front of the main staircase.  
  
"My friends," he began. "I am honored to have you here to surround my beautiful daughter, Pansy, tonight as she comes out to high society..." He droned on.  
  
I didn't listen to the rest of the speech. After several minutes, the roar of applause resounded throughout the room. I looked up to see a young lady descend the stairs and take Mister Parkinson's arm. Draco motioned to me that we should join his parents at the front of the crowd.  
  
Standing next to the Malfoys, I got a closer look at Miss Parkinson. Her costly gown and beautiful coiffure could not conceal the fact that she closely resembled a pug dog.  
  
Lucius prodded his son discreetly in the side.  
  
"Ask her to dance!" he whispered.  
  
Draco walked forward from the crowd admiring Miss Parkinson and offered her his hand. Mister Parkinson motioned for the band to play, and a waltz filled the room. The crowd parted to let Draco and Pansy into the center of the room. As they began to dance, the others in attendance likewise found partners and began waltzing. I stood idly for awhile, uninterested in dancing at all, until Dolores Umbridge found me.  
  
"Why, Mister Potter! Such a handsome young man as yourself, and you have no dancing partner?" she simpered.  
  
"No, madam, I don't care much for dancing," I replied, praying she would leave.  
  
"Well, I haven't got a dancing partner either. Mister Umbridge had urgent business at the capital and could not attend," she said.  
  
"What a pity," I commented, bored.  
  
"It is, isn't it?" she responded, pausing for a moment as though she were on the verge of tears but then suddenly brightening. "As we are both so unfortunately in solitude for this dance, you simply must be my partner!"  
  
The thought of her odious hands with their gaudy rings on any part of my person caused me to immediately inwardly recoil. However, the fear of offending Dolores Umbridge overpowered my repulsion, so I nodded, and we began to dance.  
  
"Why, what an interesting scar you have, Mister Potter," Dolores said, running her finger along it. Her touch made it ache considerably.  
  
"I received it in the accident that killed my mother and father when I was very small," I responded. Keeping a 3/4 time rhythm was enough difficulty without her questions.  
  
"Where did that take place?" she asked.  
  
"New Surrey, in Delaware," I replied. "I was raised thereafter by my mother's sister and her family."  
  
"Oh, my, near the university?" she asked. I nodded. "It must be a hotbed of radicalism!"  
  
"Madam, I must be honest and tell you it is. The place is teeming with abolitionists and even a few, excuse me, sodomites," I replied.  
  
Dolores Umbridge stiffened, her eyes filling with disbelief. "My goodness," she whispered. "The North is worse than I could have ever imagined!"  
  
"My apologies, madam, for any shocking of your sensibilities," I said. "But I felt you must know."  
  
Her face contorted with disgust. I struggled mightily with the urge to laugh.  
  
"Excuse me, Mister Potter, but I have grown weary and wish to retire," she said, walking away from me and up the staircase.  
  
I smiled privately and went to the area where Draco and I had been sitting earlier. As I sat down, a slave appeared and offered me a glass of bourbon. Having nothing better to do, I accepted it and began to drink, finding that observing the party was far more enjoyable than participating in it. When my glass became empty, there was always a slave nearby to refill it without my even asking. The whole party seemed bent on me losing my sobriety, I began to feel. I was indeed very drunk when Narcissa found where I was sitting and told me that everyone was going to bed. She led me up the stairs and into a bedroom.  
  
"Considering the number of people here, you'll be sharing a room with Draco tonight," she said. I managed to nod, and she exited. I sank down onto the bed and listened to the door shortly afterwards opening and to Draco walking into the room and sitting beside me.  
  
"Did you enjoy yourself?" he asked.  
  
"I'm no longer sober, if that indicates anything," I replied. "And I caused Dolores Umbridge to retreat prematurely to her room."  
  
"That woman... She should be thrown into the midst of a tribe of Indians!" he commented. We laughed and began to kiss. "Dear God, you reek of bourbon!"  
  
"So do you," I replied.  
  
"True. But the company of Pansy Parkinson is an excellent justification for drunkenness," he said.  
  
Draco relieved us both of our shirts and cravats, we having each discarded our jackets and waistcoats upon entering the room. I undid the buttons of his trousers and then mine as he sank his teeth into the skin of my shoulder.  
  
We paused for a moment and situated our now naked selves more comfortably on the bed. Draco's stare crept wickedly across my body. I gazed slowly at his, dreamily, mentally comparing his form to that of a fallen angel. I felt myself growing aroused. Where before I would have turned my thoughts to places distinctly non-erotic, I now let myself fall into a wave of desire as Draco seized upon my nether regions with his hands and mouth. Those who would dismiss pleasure as sinful have not known it fully.  
  
I dug my fingernails into Draco's back as he with a swipe of his tongue pushed me past the brink of ecstasy.  
  
"Oh, I die," I whispered, my castings exploding out from me and down his throat. He closed his eyes and swallowed.  
  
His eyes when he reopened them were darkened with lust. "Now I wish to try something," he said.  
  
Draco opened a drawer of the nightstand and fumbled around until he produced a small perfume bottle.  
  
"It looks to belong to Miss Parkinson," he noted. "How amusing that we will be fucking with the aid of her hand oil."  
  
His use of that vulgar word made me shiver. There were few times I had heard it spoken.  
  
Draco opened the bottle and poured some of its contents onto his hands. He smeared it especially onto the fingers of his right hand.  
  
"Lie on your back, Harry, and spread your legs," he said. "This may hurt at first."  
  
"What are you going to do?" I asked.  
  
"I do not honestly know. The concept occurred to me just now," he replied.  
  
I did as Draco asked of me, and he began to insert one of his fingers, slick with scented oil, into my anus. It was an area of my body to which I had never given thought. The penetration hurt initially, but relaxed gradually into pleasure, a pleasure that intensified as Draco inserted another finger.  
  
"I think you're ready now," he said softly, breathing heavily.  
  
I looked down to see that Draco was aroused considerably. He brought his body over mine and entered me. I could at first feel only pain and the wish to expel what had just invaded me, yet Draco continued thrusting until he hit a spot within me that sent jolts of pleasure through my system.  
  
The rumors I had heard of making love in Greek fashion were far exceeded by this experience. After several minutes more, Draco expelled his castings deep within me, and we both lay exhausted in one another's embrace.  
  
"I did not know," he said huskily. "How intense that could be. I was but conducting an experiment."  
  
"An experiment?" I repeated in mock offense.  
  
"To see if there were some way to simulate normalcy between two men," he replied.  
  
"Ah," I said. "I believe in our simulation, we have improved upon the original model."  
  
"The ancients were fond of it for a reason," Draco mused.  
  
We fell silent for a short while, content to but lie close together. Suddenly, the door opened.  
  
"Draco! Are you asleep?" a shrill, female voice asked. "I forgot that I left my hand oil in here. Do you mind if I fetch it now?"  
  
The light from Pansy's candelabrum shone on our entangled bodies. She gave a little noise of shock. Draco got out of the bed, wrapped a bed sheet around himself, and walked to where Pansy stood.  
  
"Miss Parkinson, being a young lady of good breeding, you of all people should know that it is most rude to enter the bedchamber of a gentleman, especially for an item so trivial as a bottle of hand oil," he commented coolly.  
  
"If it is such a trivial thing, why is it smeared all about your person?" she asked.  
  
"My use of it is of no concern of yours. Now, if you don't mind, Mister Potter and I are both trying to sleep," Draco replied.  
  
"In one another's arms, it seems," she commented.  
  
"What do you care?" he asked, his voice growing dangerously low.  
  
"We are the ones getting married, Draco, not you and your tutor," she responded.  
  
"I would sooner slit my own throat than marry you, you ill-mannered sow," he whispered.  
  
"Then perhaps you should, for we will be getting married, your perversions notwithstanding!" Pansy retorted hotly, flouncing away.  
  
"Just for your comfort," Draco said, closing the door. "I intend to pursue neither option."  
  
"What option, then, do you intend to pursue?" I asked.  
  
"One that involves you and I being together, and one that does not involve my kith and kin demanding needless things of me," he replied. "What that shall be precisely, I do not know. But let us get some sleep; I fear we may have some explaining to do in the morning."  
  
nanono, SilverDragon, Tasha. Liliku, and cair: Thank you so much for liking my writing style! I wrote an extra-extremely-long chapter, hence why updating has taken so long. Venus Aeternus: Thanks for the tip on the html. My word processing program automatically capitalized I's, so I had to reprogram some things. Everything should be much neater now. Naynymic: I myself am not quite sure what the actual ending to this will be. I assure you that it shouldn't be sad at all, but rather a simple tying- together of things. madam-malicia: I intend to use "negro" as a general standby throughout the story, as that was the generally accepted term for black people then. About the "thee" and "thine" stuff, Quakers in that time period were just coming out of using those words (if you read Revolutionary War literature with Quaker characters, for example, you have to get used to those sorts of pronouns). As such, Sirius, being of a Quaker family, uses such language in every aspect of his life, while Harry, who is younger and more accustomed to non-Quaker speech, uses Quaker speech when communicating with Sirius and other older Quakers but ordinary speech when communicating with everyone else. So Harry and Sirius writing to each other will sound rather outdated, but being old-school Quakers, it made sense to them. PeachDancer82: I absolutely despise using racial slurs in my writing. It hurts me to have to write them in, but I don't think slaveholders of the Lucius Malfoy ilk were polite enough to not use them. As the story progresses, there will be less need for racial slurs, which delights me greatly. Thanks to all the kids who have reviewed all of my fics, and thanks to everyone who have been reading them! 


	7. The Decision

I awoke in the morning before Draco did and watched him sleep, wondering how someone so presently innocent in appearance could be capable of the libidinous activities of the previous night. As it was a good hour or so until breakfast was likely to begin, I purloined some stationary from the desk and wrote a letter to Sirius.  
  
Dear Sirius,  
  
Thy letter came as a great surprise to me, but not as a displeasing one. Thou art my Godfather still, and I would not think to condemn thee and thy companion for seeking happiness in either religious or romantic realms. Insofar as thy love for Doctor Lupin, I cannot express here fully my joy at our similarities in the matter. Let me explain further.  
  
My pupil, Draco, and I have discovered through no small amount of inner turmoil that we share the same romantic preferences. In addition, he has revealed to me his disregard for the roles assigned to men and women per their attire. Had anyone told me beforehand that I would fall in love with the seventeen-year-old son of a wealthy planter, and one who prefers wearing women's clothing no less, I would have been astounded at their brazenness. Yet perhaps I should attribute my change in personality to the isolation here, or perhaps to the climate. I have found that many things we condemn in the safety of our own homes become quite nearly normal when given a human face. As such, the very concept of normalcy for me has become quite relative. Thou would understand and accept this realization, I am sure.  
  
I am writing to thee from a bedroom in Parkinson Manor, when Draco's intended came out yesterday evening. I spent the majority of the evening in a corner drinking bourbon (for which I beg thy forgiveness, Godfather; the temptation given the cloying atmosphere was too great), but did undergo an introduction to some of Draco's relations, including one Dolores Umbridge, who apparently has connections through marriage to the state government. Her and those with whom she kept company were exceedingly loathsome people with whom to converse, permeated with prejudice and hatred. I fear that if all the rich and powerful in this nation are made up of such as they, there will be no progress in this land. In addition, I was also acquainted with the night's center of attention, Miss Pansy Parkinson. Draco was quite correct in calling her coy, and I must add that Miss Parkinson defies the favorable reputation that Southern young ladies have for their beauty.  
  
I fear I have become something of a gossip in the previous paragraph and so will cease in my details. I do not know when I will be returning to New Surrey; Draco turns eighteen in less than three months, at which time he is obliged to make some sort of matrimonial arrangement with Miss Parkinson, and we are still unsure about how to treat the matter. If either thou or thy companion know of any methods by which two young men may avoid a marriage and live devoted to one another while not incurring the wrath of varied family members and public officials, Draco and I both would be quite grateful. Tell me please of any news in New Surrey, the outcome of thy legal proceedings, news of Doctor Lupin, etc. I eagerly await thy letter and hope to remain,  
Thy loving Godson,  
Harry Potter  
  
I folded the letter upon completion and put it in my pocket so as to mail it when we returned to Malfoy Manor. The bell for breakfast rang as I was dressing, so I finished and went to where Draco was sleeping still.  
  
"Darling, wake up. It's time for breakfast," I said softly, rubbing his back.  
  
He moved slightly and groaned but did not open his eyes. I waited. He continued sleeping. I was greatly interested in not offending our hosts with tardiness, especially given the questionable content of the previous night, so I tried once more.  
  
"Draco, wake up now!" I said. There was no response. My frustration increased.  
  
Just then, a small, devilish idea came over me. I pulled back the bedsheets and gently pushed Draco, who was still naked, onto his back and applied my mouth and hands to the area between his legs. He became very quickly aroused, so I continued, praying he would awaken. Although he remained asleep for a short while longer, his breath became jagged.  
  
"What, what are you doing?" Draco asked sleepily, yawning.  
  
I removed my mouth from his shaft so that I could speak.  
  
"Waking you up," I replied.  
  
"Well, don't stop now on account of your success!" he said.  
  
I laughed and resumed my position, rubbing and sucking at him until he reached climax and expelled his castings into my mouth.  
  
"Now that I am awake," Draco said, closing his eyes with pleasure and breathing heavily. "Let us go down to breakfast."  
  
"Perhaps you should dress yourself accordingly," I commented.  
  
He nodded and began to put on clothing.  
  
"Shall we make excuses for what Miss Parkinson so astutely pointed out last evening, or shall we wait first for any questions?" he asked as he struggled with the tying of his cravat.  
  
"Let us wait for any questions. Perhaps we shall be lucky and find Miss Parkinson to have been overtaken by a bout of amnesia and to have thus not told her parents," I replied, keeping intentionally my tone light.  
  
"Perhaps," Draco mused quietly. "Perhaps we shall indeed be lucky."  
  
We went downstairs, where people were already sitting down to breakfast, among them Lucius and Narcissa. Lucius motioned for Draco to sit near him. As he walked over to the empty seat by his father, Pansy appeared.  
  
"You! Master Malfoy, you had better have for me an explanation!" she screeched.  
  
Draco sighed and walked towards her. "What on Earth are you going on about, Miss Parkinson? I have a headache and do not wish to hear you complain of trivial matters," he said, rubbing his temples.  
  
"You know perfectly well what. And I don't care one whit about your head aching. It is more likely than not punishment for your sins of last night!" she said nastily.  
  
"If by sin, you mean an excess in the intake of bourbon, I agree with you wholeheartedly, as such excessive drinking tends to cause the head to hurt. If, however, you mean something else, then I am afraid I am most confused," Draco responded.  
  
She glared at him. "Lying, perverse, sodomite!" she hissed to him. He bent to kiss her hand.  
  
"Gossip-mongering slattern," Draco whispered back.  
  
"Slattern?" she repeated in an enraged whisper.  
  
"That is what young ladies who pursue relations for material gain are called, or am I mistaken in that definition?" he responded softly, continuing to kiss her arm. "Then again, I am told slatterns are typically at least moderately attractive."  
  
Pansy's face reddened and contorted with offense. Draco stood up.  
  
"Excuse me, ladies and gentlemen, but Miss Parkinson seems to not take kindly to my affections. I am bemused at how I am to marry a young lady who is visibly disgusted when I kiss her hand," he remarked with mock seriousness.  
  
"You are quite fortunate that my parents are out of the room at the moment, Master Malfoy," Pansy said.  
  
"On the contrary, Miss Parkinson," he replied. "It is you who is fortunate, for your parents are not present to you becoming temporarily in grave danger of spinsterhood."  
  
Pansy scowled. Draco smiled sweetly and sat down next to his father to breakfast. I seated myself nearby.  
  
"What was that about?" Lucius asked his son.  
  
"I am not sure. Perhaps Miss Parkinson sampled too much spirits last night, for she barged into my bedchamber as Mister Potter and I were asleep, accusing me of all varieties of sinful behaviors. I tried to win back her favor this morning and gently indicate her having misspoken, yet she would not accept me," Draco replied innocently.  
  
"I somehow sense that there is more to her side of the story than you let on," Lucius commented. "We will discuss this upon arriving home."  
  
We left around an hour later. The ride back to Malfoy Manor was as silent as the ride from it, but the quiet was far more pregnant and awful. When we arrived and entered the main house, Draco and I made to go upstairs, ostensibly for a lesson, but Narcissa halted our steps.  
  
"Mister Potter, perhaps it would be best if you did not conduct a lesson presently. Draco's father and myself wish to speak with him," she said.  
  
I nodded and continued walking upstairs as Draco was escorted by his mother to the parlor. When I reached my room, I changed into a more casual set of clothes, prepared to return those I had been wearing to the overseer, and walked back downstairs, peering briefly into the parlor as I went. Draco was seated on the chaise lounge, calmly talking. Lucius's expression was one of softened anger, and Narcissa was smiling with sad eyes. The tableau presented was nearly absurd, so atypical it was of their ordinary family interactions. I went outside via the side door, leaving my letter in the pile of outgoing mail.  
  
I knocked on Severus's door and waiting for it to opened, feeling the sun already begin to work its burn on my back.  
  
"Mister Potter?" he asked, opening the door and letting me in. "Why are you and the Malfoys not at church?"  
  
"I do not practice Methodism, and Mister Malfoy expressed no desire this morning to go to worship. I assume the events of last evening have given him a fearsome headache, as he is not one to miss church," I replied.  
  
"Strange indeed. And no lesson with Master Malfoy?" Severus asked.  
  
"Ah, no. His parents are discussing a matter with him in the parlor," I replied. I paused. "I thought to return to you your clothing with my thanks."  
  
He nodded. "You're quite welcome; I have little use for such clothing anymore. Did you enjoy Miss Parkinson's debut?" he asked while putting away the suit.  
  
"Ah, it was quite a...new experience. I am from Delaware, and such events there are not nearly so lavish as here," I answered.  
  
"The affairs of the well-heeled can be quite overwhelming, especially to one of a different background," he agreed. "I never myself became entirely comfortable attending them."  
  
"When was that?" I inquired, my curiosity piqued.  
  
"Mister Malfoy and I worked several years back on Congressman Voldemort's political campaign. We were rewarded per his success, with extravagant parties and the like," he replied.  
  
"What changed from then to now?" I asked.  
  
"I, I lost my taste for the man I became while working for the congressman. Mister Malfoy, however, found his true self in such work. We quarreled, and Congressman Voldemort became especially angry over my...doubts. I left his inner circle soon thereafter, claiming illness," Severus said.  
  
"If you were at odds with Lucius, how did you come to work for him?" I asked.  
  
"Ah, Narc-Mistress Malfoy and I have a history together. She felt she owed me a kindness and graciously convinced her husband to hire me. I am eternally grateful to her for that act," he replied. There was a catch in his voice, as though he had left many painful things unsaid. I decided to cease my flow of questions.  
  
We sat, drinking iced tea, for a short while. Severus explained how he had been trained as an apothecary, the profession of his father, and his awe at the majesty of the elements and their properties. I respectfully disagreed, having preferred religion and zoological studies to the physical sciences in school. Before I knew it, the lunch bell was sounding from the kitchen.  
  
"Mister Potter," Severus said, putting away the service from which we had been drinking tea. "It would be best, I believe, if you went to lunch now."  
  
"I only hope that Mister and Mistress Malfoy are not too displeased with me," I mused.  
  
"Why would they be displeased with you?" he asked.  
  
"Oh, no reason," I replied quickly, worrying I had provoked in Severus suspicion.  
  
He nodded. "It has to do with Master Malfoy, does it not?" he asked.  
  
"Ah, in a way, yes," I stammered nervously.  
  
Severus nodded again. "Come by my house whenever you like, Mister Potter. My latchstring is always out," he said, showing me the door.  
  
I walked back towards the main house, shaking and confused. It seemed that every conversation I had in this house gave me a glimpse at the growing multitude of complexities and dramas that befell this house and this area of Texas.  
  
The heat was unusually strong. The windows of the house were all open, and as we sat down to lunch, slaves surrounded the table to fan us. The food before me looked close to spoiling, and any remaining appetite I possessed quickly disappeared. We did not make conversation, and the quiet felt more caused by the temperature than by offense. Finally, as I was drinking my fourth glass of iced tea, Narcissa excused herself demurely, saying she felt faint, and her husband followed her upstairs with a vial of smelling salts. Draco's eyes met mine across the table.  
  
"It would suit our relationship well to talk on a serious matter, Mister Potter," he said.  
  
"Would my bedchamber be an appropriate setting?" I asked, my eyes flitting from his. Draco nodded.  
  
We left the dining room somberly. Draco stopped briefly in his bedchamber before entering mine, carrying a bundle of dark grey satin. He went over to a corner, changed into what turned out to be a rather fetching gown, and proceeded to stretch out on my bed. I sat rather stiffly in the chair at my desk.  
  
"Sorry, but I have had all I can take of trousers and waistcoats," he said. "My mother will never notice the absence of this particular gown, as it lay folded in the far back of her clothes press."  
  
"And you couldn't simply thus be entirely unclothed in my bedchamber?" I asked.  
  
"On another occasion, with great pleasure," he replied with a quick grin. "But what we must discuss is a serious matter, and I felt disinclined towards providing any distractions. Harry, I told my parents that Miss Parkinson had broken my heart with her cruel slander, and that if she would not retract her words, I would be in the deepest of agonies."  
  
My lightheartedness disappeared. "Did they believe such a statement?" I asked.  
  
"Oddly, yes. I'm quite surprised that they reacted so joyfully," he replied.  
  
"Well, that's wonderful, insofar that it removes suspicion from our relationship," I commented.  
  
"Except that it is now likely I will be marrying Miss Parkinson within the month," he responded slowly.  
  
"You are so good an actor as to engender that outcome?" I asked.  
  
"Apparently so. My father wished for me to commit before I could hypothetically change my mind," Draco replied.  
  
"Oh dear. We haven't much time then," I said.  
  
"Not at all," he agreed. "Some plot must be devised so that we may be in peace."  
  
I looked at Draco in one of his mother's unworn gowns, and then at my own body, its muscles evident, its form so masculine, and I remembered something Sirius once mentioned to me over a lesson on colonialists and American natives: that there were tribes in which two members of the same sex could wed and be accepted as such, provided that one lived as a man and the other as a woman.  
  
"It would be wise, I think, for us to leave this area as soon as possible to live elsewhere," I said. "Do you believe you could be ready in two weeks?"  
  
Venus Aeternus: Pansy is most interested in marrying Draco for the Malfoy fortune and the prestige associated with the Malfoy name. Besides, how else would she be able to get with someone of Draco's physical caliber? Heh. GaBrIeLa2: I'm glad that you aren't homophobic, but transphobia (the fear or dislike of transgender, transvestite, and/or transsexual persons) is just as, well, unhappy in my view. I feel that we are all too stuck in the societal construction of gender roles and am trying to break some of those preconceptions with this story. That aside, the story is set in the beginning in 1857. Thank you also to pari106, Mistress Joy, CelestialDrgn, Falling from Grace, Lolita, madam-malicia, and PeachDancer82 for the lovely reviews, and thank you also to everyone else out there reading this! 


	8. The Intrigue

When I went down to dinner that evening, I felt myself become part of an elaborate game, a ruse. Certain actions, even the most mindless of courtesies, would abet our growing plan.  
  
"What do you intend to do after the wedding, Mister Potter?" Lucius asked.  
  
"The wedding?" I repeated, caught off-guard.  
  
"Surely our son had informed you that she will marry Miss Parkinson in a few week's time?" he questioned.  
  
"Oh, yes," I replied. "He had. I must admit I do not know. I shall likely return to my Godfather in Delaware and search for another tutoring position."  
  
"A worthwhile endeavor for a body to pursue," he commented.  
  
"Three weeks is rather short notice for a wedding, is it not?" I asked after a few minutes' silence.  
  
"Indeed," answered Narcissa. "Ideally, we would have months to prepare for such an event, but varied, ah, circumstances prevent such. However, both we and the Parkinsons have planned for Draco and Miss Parkinson's marriage since their childhoods. Why, Pansy completed her trousseau two years ago!" I gave an appropriate reaction of pleased surprise. Draco looked at me, and his eyes were filled with a sense of conspiratal contentment.  
  
As the week passed, the further unfurlings of our plans gave me in their wonderful imminence a sense of ease, as though I were entrusting my future and its happiness to a higher power, below the Almighty and above myself: love. I was expected to conduct fewer lessons, as Draco was finding himself further committed to wedding preparations, engagement festivities, and, of all things, hunting lessons. Having more idle hours, I spent more time with Snape, talking of classical drama and the like.  
  
That Sunday, as Draco and his family were at worship, I went to Severus's house with some annotations on Aristophanes. I slowly opened the door, bemused as to why he had not answered my knock. As I entered, I witnessed Severus at his dining table, sketching madly. I could come no closer, for he noticed my presence and rose to greet me.  
  
"I apologize for not answering the door, but I was lost in thought," Severus said. "Have you breakfasted?" I nodded. "Ah, well, I'm sure you would not object to another pot of coffee. Excuse me." He went into the kitchen and started a fire in the stove. The smell of brewing coffee began to reach the sitting room. As Severus busied himself in the kitchen, I walked furtively to the table, curious as to what had so distracted him earlier.  
  
Upon the table was an unfinished drawing of a beautiful woman reclining by the stream that ran through the plantation. Her hair was crudely colored with some smeared yellow flower petals; her dress was more carefully indicated as gray by a bit of charcoal. Near the drawing lay an opened book, the page of which I recognized as the Shakespeare sonnet  
  
That God forbid, that made me first your slave, I should in thought control your times of pleasure, Or at your hand th' account of hours to crave, Being your vassal, bound to stay your leisure.  
  
O let me suffer (being at your beck) Th' imprisoned absence of your liberty, And patience tame to sufferance, bide each check, Without accusing you of injury.  
  
Be where you list, your charter is so strong, That you your self may privilege your time To what you will, to you it doth belong, Your self to pardon of self-doing crime.  
  
I am to wait, though waiting so be hell, Not blame your pleasure be it ill or well.  
  
I moved to study the picture again when I heard Severus's footsteps growing closer to the kitchen's threshold. I quickly moved away from the table just as he appeared, bearing the coffee service. He poured me a cup, and I began to drink it, but I was still achingly curious as to whom the woman in the drawing was, and why her relations with Severus were so fraught with despair and unrequited passion.  
  
"I noted your fervor in artistry as I entered," I mentioned with all the idle innocence I could muster.  
  
"I had a powerful dream yesternight that reminded me of a pleasant day almost a score years past, and I felt need to put it upon paper," he replied. "But mind not my dreams; you have brought with you papers that are surely of more interest."  
  
I brought out my annotations, and he and I discussed my interpretations of "Lysistrata."  
  
"I pray that if our country descends into battles that our women would come to such a clever solution as these Greek women," Severus commented.  
  
"What of their men?" I blurted impulsively.  
  
"What ever do you mean?" he asked.  
  
"I mean, I mean that the Greek men were notorious for their penchant for, ah, sodomite acts," I replied. "Would they not seek an alternative in one another?"  
  
"Ah, I see what you mean," he said. "Perhaps they did indeed. Or perhaps their companions too abstained towards the cause of peace. Though I could never surely know, I assume that such must have occurred."  
  
I nodded, still blushing slightly.  
  
"Mister Potter," Severus continued. "Your humors are far easier to discern than I believe you are aware." I stammered some justification. "Oh, no, don't worry." He paused, looking casually aslant. "Every man has his cross to bear. At least some may find happiness in theirs rather than sorrow or pain." He was silent for a few minutes and closed his eyes.  
  
"The nature of your relationship towards Master Malfoy as well as the nature of his towards you is evident." My eyes widened in fear. "To none else save myself, mind you," Severus assured me. "I have spent so many years watching others that every glance or lingering touch is naked and blaring. Your love reminds me of the one time I too permitted myself to fall in love: the joys despite the secrecies. My romance ended unpleasantly; I hope yours does not take my course. It is the worst of torments upon losing your beloved to then be near her always, with no safe place to conceal forever your ardor."  
  
I began to ingest these words when the lunch bell rang. I took my leave of Severus and went towards the main house. Upon entering the dining room, where Draco and his parents were already seated, my mind began to connect a myriad of dots. While force feeding myself yet another detestable mess of breading and grease, I let my thoughts turn and stretch about in my head. Draco excused himself from the table just as his parents were cleaning their plates and sent me a glance indicating that I was to soon follow. I did so after a few minutes more of pushing my food around on the plate.  
  
Once I entered Draco's room, I found my mouth enclosed by his and our bodies fused in embrace.  
  
"I have had far too little of that these past days," he said.  
  
"As have I," I replied, smiling.  
  
Draco kicked close the door and backed me onto his bed, removing articles of my clothing and his until I felt my back against the feather mattress and trousers about my ankles. I watched the sharp outlines of Draco's face as he climbed astride me and proceeded to kiss all parts of my person. I let the fog of lust overtake my senses as he fetched me off with one hand, removing the last vestiges of clothing with the other and exposing to their afternoon light the endless angles of his naked body.  
  
After I had come to climax, Draco wiped off his hands and lay down beside me.  
  
"Don't feel pressured by any haste, but reciprocity in the near future would be most appreciated," he said, indicating his stiffened arousal. "And seeing as how your mouth has such extraordinary capabilities..." I leered and shifted my body to let my mouth meet the juncture between his legs. Draco began to breathe very rapidly as I engulfed him with my mouth and tightened my lips. When he climaxed after a short while, we lay in one another's arms and talked of things more mundane.  
  
"I fear Parson Quirrell is the most tiresome man alive, just stuttering out his sermons and all. I was quite close to falling asleep. How did you occupy yourself while we were at worship?" Draco asked.  
  
"Oh, nothing in particular. I visited Mister Snape. Something about him was peculiar," I said. Draco raised his eyebrows in interest. "I walked in on him madly sketching a woman by the fork of the Sabine River that runs near by here. And a book was opened before the drawing to that Shakespeare sonnet you are fond of: 'That God forbid, that made me first your slave.'"  
  
"How did the woman look?" he inquired.  
  
"She was very beautiful, although her features were detailed rather roughly. Her hair was fair, and she was wearing a..." I answered.  
  
"A what?" he asked, perplexed.  
  
"A gray gown. Excuse me a moment," I replied quickly. I got out of bed, walked over to Draco's clothes press, and fished out the gray gown from under the false bottom of a shelf. "Could you put this on, please?" He obliged and then stood before me, looking confused. "And brush your hair down about your face?" I continued. Draco took the comb from atop his nightstand and made his hair fall to his chin. I stared at him intently.  
  
"Did you not once mentioned that this gown belonged to your mother?" I asked.  
  
"Yes. But Father once commented that she hasn't worn it ever for almost the twenty years they have been married. What is your implication?" Draco responded.  
  
"Draco, clad as you are, you bear a strong resemblance to your mother..." I said.  
  
"So I have been told, albeit while more suitably outfitted," he replied.  
  
"But you are the spitting image of the subject of Mister Snape's drawing," I finished. "The setting of which, according to him, took place many years prior."  
  
"So by deductive reasoning and accepted systems of logic, we may infer...?" he asked uneasily.  
  
"Many things, but first and foremost why your mother no longer wears that rather fetching gown," I replied.  
  
Draco looked pensive. "I never took Mother to be one for adultery. Nor Snape for one so romantic. But it makes sense, I suppose. Mother tells me she met Father through Snape, when Snape escorted her to Aunt Bellatrix's debut. And I have seen letters of their correspondence while rifling through Mother's things for combs and the like. That I suspected a relationship astounds me," he said.  
  
"Do you think your father knows of the extent of their affair?" I wondered.  
  
"Likely not. He would have never hired Snape if so, purely out of jealousy. Mother is likely the only reason Father even took him on, considering the questionable circumstances under which Snape left Mister Voldemort's employ," Draco said.  
  
"What a curious matter is this all, these sheer amounts of drama and intrigue shoved into our small lives," I mused.  
  
"But the near absurdity is a thing to be embraced, I feel. The very moral chaos is rather splendid, you must admit," he responded.  
  
"Indeed, but I would rather that we two were normal and had not such complex lives," I said.  
  
"God did not grant us simple lives. Would you exchange our love for that?" he asked.  
  
Draco kissed me. "Never," I whispered, smiling.  
  
"Then get you back to bed, lovely boy," he commanded with a smirk. "It isn't fitting that intrigue should interrupt our pleasure."  
  
I smiled again and let Draco push me back onto his bed, he still wearing his mother's gown.  
  
Replies to reviews:  
  
madam-malicia: While same-sex marriage in Amerindian tribes was not universal, I learned that it did occur in some tribes. You learn some interesting things in United States History, eh?  
  
SheilaB: Perhaps I'll make it into an original novel, someday. But it's lovely to have characters to work with already. Thanks!  
  
Many thanks also to pari106, Artemis Astralstar, Sir/Lady Lupin, Venus Aeternus, and GaBrIeLa2 for their lovely reviews. And please, please review if you haven't, kids. It makes my day when you do. Thanks for reading! 


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